


the blue room

by plasticbu11ets



Category: Demolition Lovers - My Chemical Romance (Song), My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, brief mention of killing/calling someone a bitch, candlelit dinner in hotel..., two cis talk about gender over ravioli, very sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasticbu11ets/pseuds/plasticbu11ets
Summary: the demolition bride tells the demo groom he wants to use he/him pronouns.
Relationships: bride/groom





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't want to give them names, so i just called them bride and groom? in the next chapter i'll go and give them two random names. also, i have limited experience with ao3 & its formatting, so sorry if there are mistakes with that.

The kids in the room above were stomping, and the sound echoed loudly through the hotel walls. Bride turned the dial on the radio up a few notches as he waited for Groom to bring their dishes to the table- tonight they were having ravioli, and Groom liked to plate it like they were at a fancy restaurant. They had candles lit too, one on either side of the radio. Bride had to check them every few minutes to make sure wax wasn’t dripping and making a mess.

There’s no reason we have to do things this way, Bride thought. There’s enough money under the bed to buy this whole hotel- to buy a real restaurant. He tapped the suitcase with the side of his foot, reassured it was where it was supposed to be. He and Groom had talked about this, though, what they were going to do with the money they’d amassed. They’d decided to just keep it. The money would buy nothing but itself, their reward would be getting away with as much as possible. Bride was perfectly ok with this, though he knew he’d make Groom spend at least some on their wedding. That was a worry for a few weeks later, though, right now all they were doing was having dinner.

Groom set a plate before Bride, and sat down in front of his own.  
“Can you turn down the radio, please?” he asked, pointing with his fork. Bride turned it down some, and tuned it to a channel that was playing classical music, completing the fancy restaurant illusion. He looked down to take a bite of his dinner, and saw the sauce had been poured in a heart shape on the pasta. A raw piece of spaghetti had even been broken and arranged to look like a cupid’s arrow. Smiling, he looked back up to see Groom watching him. Bride took his fork and held it upright, with the tines pointed down, across the table. Groom smiled and did the same, slotting the tines of his fork in with Bride’s.

“Love you, honey.”  
“Love ya, too,” he said. They each took their forks back and started eating. It was a nice moment of calm, afternoons were always Bride’s favorite. They still had a few hours together, and by this point in the night they usually weren’t being chased, and could relax. Also, neither of them had eaten since breakfast, and were both starving after a long day of general illicit work.

“We take a break, tomorrow, don’t we?” Bride asked.  
“Yep. Nothing at all to do. Though, I think we talked about going for a swim somewhere.”  
“The river that goes past the town?”  
“Yeah, that one. Let’s swim, have a picnic, and then leave from there.”  
“Sounds good, honey.” Bride set down his fork for a moment, and folded his hands under his chin. Noticing this, Groom stopped eating.  
“Something wrong?”  
“Not really. I want to start using he/him pronouns. Would you use them for me?” Groom paused for a moment.   
“Well, yeah, if you want me to- how come, though? Are you trans?”  
“Thanks, babe. No, I don’t think I am, I’m definitely a woman. If anything, I’d like to use those pronouns to show how much of a woman I am. Does that make sense?” Groom shook his head.  
“Not really.”  
“Hm.” Bride leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest. “You remember going to the museum, and seeing prints from Picasso’s blue period?” Groom nodded, taking another bite of ravioli.  
“Do you remember how the painting of the lady with one blind eye was completely blue?” He nodded again.  
“Do you remember the one that had a little yellow, the one of the guy who was looking away from us?” Groom shook his head, frowning slightly.   
“There were like five of those.”  
“The one of the blonde lady getting dressed, then.” He nodded.  
“Didn’t the yellow really make you notice how blue things were? With the partially blind lady, you almost take the blue for granted. The yellow and red make you notice how many things are blue, though. When I do feminine stuff, I want it to be deliberate, I guess.” He took a sip of his water.  
“That, and I just prefer them. I’ve been thinking about it, and they just sound nicer to me.”

“I get that. That’s really cool to consider. How long have you been thinking about this?” Bride ate a piece of ravioli and thought for a moment.  
“Since that one guy called me a bitch. Did you hear him? It was on the train.”  
“Yeah, I remember. It bothered you?”  
“So much. He didn’t make me feel the way I do, though, thinking about what he said just helped me understand what was going on.”  
“See him again, I’ll kill him, ok babe?” Bride smiled.  
“Sure thing, honey.” He turned the radio back up, and they ate in silence for a minute or two.  
“Do you think you could use she/her pronouns for me?” Groom asked. “I think they just sound better, honestly.”  
“Of course,” Bride said, smiling. He reached over and put his hand on hers, and left it there until they finished dinner. Groom picked up their plates, Bride had to scrape wax off the table, since he’d been too distracted to watch the candles. When everything was cleaned, they stole a blanket from the bed, and fell asleep under it on the couch watching a movie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first chapter, but with names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belle: Bride  
> Gethsemane: Groom. (name info: Greek. From the Biblical place name of the garden where Jesus was arrested, from Aramaic, meaning "Oil press" or "Oil vat.")

The kids in the room above were stomping, and the sound echoed loudly through the hotel walls. Belle turned the dial on the radio up a few notches as he waited for Gethsemane to bring their dishes to the table- tonight they were having ravioli, and Gethsemane liked to plate it like they were at a fancy restaurant. They had candles lit too, one on either side of the radio. Belle had to check them every few minutes to make sure wax wasn’t dripping and making a mess.

There’s no reason we have to do things this way, Belle thought. There’s enough money under the bed to buy this whole hotel- to buy a real restaurant. He tapped the suitcase with the side of his foot, reassured it was where it was supposed to be. He and Gethsemane had talked about this, though, what they were going to do with the money they’d amassed. They’d decided to just keep it. The money would buy nothing but itself, their reward would be getting away with as much as possible. Belle was perfectly ok with this, though he knew he’d make Gethsemane spend at least some on their wedding. That was a worry for a few weeks later, though, right now all they were doing was having dinner.

Gethsemane set a plate before Belle, and sat down in front of his own.  
“Can you turn down the radio, please?” he asked, pointing with his fork. Belle turned it down some, and tuned it to a channel that was playing classical music, completing the fancy restaurant illusion. He looked down to take a bite of his dinner, and saw the sauce had been poured in a heart shape on the pasta. A raw piece of spaghetti had even been broken and arranged to look like a cupid’s arrow. Smiling, he looked back up to see Gethsemane watching him. Belle took his fork and held it upright, with the tines pointed down, across the table. Gethsemane smiled and did the same, slotting the tines of his fork in with Belle’s.

“Love you, honey.”  
“Love ya, too,” he said. They each took their forks back and started eating. It was a nice moment of calm, afternoons were always Belle’s favorite. They still had a few hours together, and by this point in the night they usually weren’t being chased, and could relax. Also, neither of them had eaten since breakfast, and were both starving after a long day of general illicit work.

“We take a break, tomorrow, don’t we?” Belle asked.  
“Yep. Nothing at all to do. Though, I think we talked about going for a swim somewhere.”  
“The river that goes past the town?”  
“Yeah, that one. Let’s swim, have a picnic, and then leave from there.”  
“Sounds good, honey.” Belle set down his fork for a moment, and folded his hands under his chin. Noticing this, Gethsemane stopped eating.  
“Something wrong?”  
“Not really. I want to start using he/him pronouns. Would you use them for me?” Gethsemane paused for a moment.   
“Well, yeah, if you want me to- how come, though? Are you trans?”  
“Thanks, babe. No, I don’t think I am, I’m definitely a woman. If anything, I’d like to use those pronouns to show how much of a woman I am. Does that make sense?” Gethsemane shook his head.  
“Not really.”  
“Hm.” Belle leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest. “You remember going to the museum, and seeing prints from Picasso’s blue period?” Gethsemane nodded, taking another bite of ravioli.  
“Do you remember how the painting of the lady with one blind eye was completely blue?” He nodded again.  
“Do you remember the one that had a little yellow, the one of the guy who was looking away from us?” Gethsemane shook his head, frowning slightly.   
“There were like five of those.”  
“The one of the blonde lady getting dressed, then.” He nodded.  
“Didn’t the yellow really make you notice how blue things were? With the partially blind lady, you almost take the blue for granted. The yellow and red make you notice how many things are blue, though. When I do feminine stuff, I want it to be deliberate, I guess.” He took a sip of his water.  
“That, and I just prefer them. I’ve been thinking about it, and they just sound nicer to me.”

“I get that. That’s really cool to consider. How long have you been thinking about this?” Belle ate a piece of ravioli and thought for a moment.  
“Since that one guy called me a bitch. Did you hear him? It was on the train.”  
“Yeah, I remember. It bothered you?”  
“So much. He didn’t make me feel the way I do, though, thinking about what he said just helped me understand what was going on.”  
“See him again, I’ll kill him, ok babe?” Belle smiled.  
“Sure thing, honey.” He turned the radio back up, and they ate in silence for a minute or two.  
“Do you think you could use she/her pronouns for me?” Gethsemane asked. “I think they just sound better, honestly.”  
“Of course,” Belle said, smiling. He reached over and put his hand on hers, and left it there until they finished dinner. Gethsemane picked up their plates, Belle had to scrape wax off the table, since he’d been too distracted to watch the candles. When everything was cleaned, they stole a blanket from the bed, and fell asleep under it on the couch watching a movie.


End file.
